


Forty-Nine Days

by katiebour



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Erotic Poetry, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebour/pseuds/katiebour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the k!meme:</p><p><i>Act 3 preferred, when he's starting to get really dark. </i></p><p><i>In the few moments Anders isn't obsessively writing manifestos, he's actually writing beautiful erotic poetry.</i></p><p><i>Hawke finds this, reads it and wanks. </i></p><p><i>If Anders finds him/her in the act is up to Author!Anon.</i></p><p><i>Would love to read Anders' poetry *and* the narrative of the events.</i></p><p>Equal parts angst, porn, and poetry.</p><p>/snif</p><p>Ah, Anders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forty-Nine Days

Garrett walked into their shared bedroom, stretching and sighing.  It had been another long day running from one end of Kirkwall to the other, listening to his companions bicker, solving problems, fighting bandits, hauling around scavenged armor and weapons to sell in the city proper, and he was  _so bloody tired._

 _I wish Anders were here- we could take a long, hot bath, then curl up in bed together.  It's been so long-_

He looked over at the fireplace and felt a tug of sadness- another copy of the manifesto scattered haphazardly over the ashes of yesterday's fire.  Anders had worked so hard, for so long, and now he was simply tossing them to the flames, night after night, hours of his time the next night's kindling.

Not that it was Garrett's place to tell Anders what to do with his manifesto- but it felt like he was giving up, or had given up, his drawn expression and distant demeanor hinting at some desperate sadness.

Garrett bit his lip, looking at the pages scattered over the grate.

 _Maybe I should save a copy.  Maybe we can work on it together, or talk to Varric about some way to get Kirkwall's leadership to read it, something, anything.  I hate to see that work go to waste-_

Garrett bent down and gently gathered the scattered pages- luckily Anders had thrown them on the dusty ashes of the previous day's fire, and there hadn't been enough residual heat to damage the paper or ink.  He smoothed one callused finger tenderly over the familiar, neat calligraphy- Anders had such beautiful penmanship; his every page was in itself nearly a work of art.

But no doubt Anders was at the clinic- another long night alone.  He'd been spending more and more time away from Garrett, excuses tumbling from his lips about why he  _needed_  to be elsewhere, tending to his patients, mixing up potions, involving himself in the mage underground in ways he refused to explain but that made Garrett sick with worry.

 _I need him here, too.  We haven't talked for any length of time in days- haven't woken up together in weeks, and it's been nearly two months since we made love._

Forty-nine days, to be exact.  Garrett had begun counting, out of desperation, at the beginning of the year, when two weeks stretched into a month, then two, then three-

 _And then there was that one, sweet night where he let me touch him, and it felt like we were in love again-_

Forty-nine days ago.

Garrett sat at his desk and shuffled the pages around, trying to get them in proper order.

 _Wait, what's this?_

A few pages stood out- instead of being covered from margin to margin in that neat writing, there was a simple column of words, like a recipe, or a song, writing relaxed into a lazy scrawl.

Garrett set the rest of the papers aside, mouth moving as he began to read:

 _For Garrett_

 _When at night you return to me  
Bruised and wounded from your daily trials  
I run my hands over you  
And pull, from that deepest part of myself  
from the land of dreams_

 _I send forth into you  
Filling you, experiencing you  
As close as one can get to another  
And you mend, body warm and smooth  
Aches banished, you are healed  
And I push you away  
Because I want you too much._

 _When you turn away, anger in every line  
Know that I push you away  
Not because I want to,  
But because I must  
Because I love you  
As I have never loved another._

Garrett paused, mind whirling.  Was Anders writing... poetry?  For him?   _Maker,_  he thought, heart aching.   _Why can't we talk about these things?  Why is he writing these words, instead of saying them to me?  If he feels this way, why is he pushing us apart?_

He bit his lip, an odd little catch in his breathing, and continued to read:

 _If we were but man to man  
One to another, alone in the world  
Know, my love  
That lips would follow hands  
I would run my mouth, needy, seeking  
Over every line of your body_

Garrett groaned.   _Oh, bloody, fucking, sodding Maker, it has been 49 fucking days-_  he remembered the feel of those hands, that mouth, moving over his body, loving him.  Just reading about it was making him hard, but he couldn't stop, entranced by the thought of his lover writing these words, about him,  _for_  him-

 _I would lap at you, my teeth scraping your skin  
Tongue and lips following to soothe  
My hands ache for you  
To hold you, to trace you  
The line of your hips  
Warm skin and fine hairs  
I would know you with my fingertips  
Treasure you with every touch._

Garrett's skin prickled with warmth, with need- he remembered, wanted,  _needed_  to feel Anders.  He fumbled with the lacings on his trousers, and then he slid a hand inside, cupping himself, stroking, pretending it was his lover, his beloved, holding him, kissing him, touching him.

 _And when your skin was warm  
Breath trapped in your lungs  
As my fingers run over you, like a whisper, like a promise  
I would trace that same slow path  
From lips, tongue, teeth, your hot mouth on mine  
A path down your neck, as you shiver in my arms  
And I would mark you, mine, mine, mine._

Garrett closed his eyes, savoring those words, remembering the feel of teeth on his neck, lips sucking, tongue laving as he was marked, owned, loved, wanted.  He stroked himself and it was Anders touching him, Anders kissing him softly on the lips, murmuring how much he loved him, and in his mind he traced his own hands over that familiar, lean body, pinching a nipple, running his hands over muscled buttocks, hearing Anders moan for him as he traced an oiled finger around the sweet pucker of his ass.

Once he'd explored that image, tasted it like a fine wine on his tongue, he opened his eyes and looked down, continuing to read:

 _My tongue would trace  
The line of your shoulder, move down  
to lap at a nipple  
First one, then the other, nibbing, licking,  
Driving you mad against me._

 _And I would kiss a line down your belly,  
The warm smooth expanse of your skin  
And when you begged me, voice hoarse with need  
I'd take you in my mouth._

Garrett brought a hand to his mouth and quickly licked his palm, closing his eyes as he continued to stroke, and it was Anders, touching him, those knowing, loving brown eyes watching him as that hot mouth closed over the head of his cock, lips stroking the shaft, velvety flicks of the tongue making him moan and writhe.

"Anders," he whispered, eyes skimming further down the page-

 _Like the tide we'd move, together, your hands in my hair  
I'd wring cry after cry from you  
Tasting you, feeling you,  
Your skin silken over steel.  
Feel it, my love, the warmth of my mouth  
My tongue stroking you  
Sucking you, taking you  
My hands firm on your thighs  
Holding you down, holding you_

He squeezed his eyes shut.  "Hold me, love," he whispered, "please," pace speeding up, breath coming in pants as he imagined those hands sliding up his thighs, pinning him down even though he wanted to buck into that hot, wet mouth-

 _And when I felt you, ready, so ready  
Your cries of pleasure in my ears  
I'd pull you tight  
And swallow you down  
And feel you fall apart in my arms._

He read, words and phrases and images echoing in his head, hand working, and he was getting close, so close-

Garrett froze when he heard the door creak open, boots soft on the carpet, because Anders expected him to be asleep, and didn't want to wake him-

"Garrett?" came the quiet, uncertain voice, boots stepping toward the chair- did he think that Garrett had fallen asleep at the desk?

With a wordless growl he was up and out of the chair, grabbing Anders by his coat and pushing him towards the bed.  When their eyes met, Garrett could see Anders pupils widen, his mouth open with the beginning of a question-

Garrett crushed his mouth to Anders', pushing, and then they were falling on the bed, and he was holding him close, breaking the kiss to fumble with the buckles on Anders' coat-

"Love?" came the breathless gasp, and Garrett growled in reply, rubbing his full, hard erection against the other man's thigh.  

And then the jacket was open- he thrust his hand under Anders' shirt, running fingers desperately over the flat planes of his chest and belly, burying his face in Anders' neck.  "I need you," he whispered, and then,  _Oh, thank the Maker,_  Anders' hands were there, pulling off his clothes, feet pushing off the boots, and Garrett focused on pulling off his own clothes, he needed this, needed him, needed the press of skin against skin-

They fumbled together, no words, simply breaths and moans and hands and skin, and Garrett was lapping at his mouth, hand on Anders' cock, rubbing his own cock desperately against his lover's body.

The sounds they were making, needy gasps, the smell of warm skin and spindleweed and the faint tingle of the Fade, the musky smell that was uniquely Anders, the taste of his skin warm and salty, the faint tang of sweat-

And when Anders pushed him up, moving a hand between them, thumb spreading wetness over the head of his cock, fingers tight around him, Garrett threw his head back and shouted, wordlessly, as he came over his lovers' hand, Anders following a moment later, body rigid, breath sobbing with every shaking cry.

And then they were quiet, together, heartbeats pressed against one another, and Garrett bit back all the words, all the accusations and pleading and begging simply to sit in silence, in this moment, to hold this little pocket of time where they were simply lovers, together, a wordless kiss brushed over his forehead, a hand smoothing through the soft hair on the back of his neck.

And when he woke the next morning, alone, stumbling over to the desk, sitting in his chair, heart broken as he lost his lover all over again, he turned the page over, and read-

 _And when in the morning we woke  
I'd hold you, trace you  
My hunger for you never sated, never ending  
My love for you ceaseless._

 _But for now, my love,  
When you turn away,  
When I push you away,  
Know that it is only because I love you  
Because I would spare you  
The pain of having given to one unworthy  
Your most precious of gifts  
Yourself, your love._

 _It will all end, soon,  
My love,  
My heart,  
My reason and my sanity,  
In losing you I lose everything  
But the world gains  
Justice, freedom, safety, life.  
This bitter sacrifice  
Is ashes in my mouth  
But it is my duty  
It is my birthright  
My curse._

 _You are the one bright light  
In all the world  
And in every sad, desperate moment  
I have the embers of what was between us  
A thousand memories to treasure.  
Thank you, my heart.  
I am so, so sorry.  
Know that i love you with all that is left of me._

 _And when it is over,  
When I am gone and you remain  
Know that I wanted you,  
Loved you,  
Cared for you always._

Garrett put his head in his hands, shaking, and let the tears fall.  Forty-nine days and then one night where everything broken was fixed, and now-

Day one, again.


End file.
